


it can always get worse

by AstaraelWeeps



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BAMF!Percy Weasley, Breathplay, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Percy Secretly in the Order, Work-Place Abuse, Working at the Ministry after the fall must've been awful, but look, i made it worse!, not a happy fic, spy!percy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21615346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstaraelWeeps/pseuds/AstaraelWeeps
Summary: Percy just wanted to keep his head down at work and keep passing the Order information. He didn't mean to catch Yaxley's eye.Or: Percy is an awesome, self-sacrificial little idiot, willing to do anything to stay a spy. Until one day, his baby brother and his two best friends are captured by snatchers, and he has to save them.
Relationships: Non-con Percy/Yaxley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

Percy can't put his finger on when exactly the ministry fell. Officially, the historians will place it at about the time as Bill's wedding, marking the moment that Minister Scrimgeour was murdered in his office, but living through it feels very different. Pieces fall one at a time, every morning is a new battle, every muttered good morning had an undercurrent of _are you still yourself? Did they overpower you on the way home?_ It's a terrible way to live, afraid and suspicious of every familiar face, and in many ways the most torturous thing about the ministry's fall was how lonely working there was becoming. How every single moment was ruined by fear and thoughts of imminent death.

Percy hadn't noticed when Pius Thicknesse went down. The Minister knew that _someone_ had fallen, spies had been able to confirm that much, but no one could identify who it had been. It had just left every one of his senior advisors eyeing the others suspiciously, and Rufus had to give in. The scare tactics worked, the paranoia amplifying and suspicions turning to each other, they didn't stand a chance. Percy was almost jealous of Scrimgeour, for getting away. Being murdered in your office wasn’t that bad a way to go.

The moment that the Minister was down though, there was a little more clarity. Pius Thicknesse? Death Eater, or Death Eater Controlled. Not that it truly mattered which. And after that, the DEs didn't seem to care too much about appearances. Sure, they were careful not to use those _exact_ words, they couched the new ministry policies in formal language that thinly veiled their intentions, but for all intents and purposes, the Ministry at that point was undeniably taken. Percy wrote up his reports, and submitted them, as usual, to Oliver Wood and Credence Summerbee. And for the first time since he ran away from his family to become a spy for the Order, he wished that he hadn't been so quick to put himself in danger. Living this way was exhausting.

"But who will protect the protectors?" he says to himself as he goes home one day. He'd seen his father in the elevator that morning and been careful not to meet his eyes. Everything was too dangerous.

Three months later, long after Arthur gave up on work and vanished into the night (he wasn't alone, the Ministry had a 5% truancy rate, and it was increasing as time passed on. Percy had proved himself with the previous two regimes, however, and so he was safe even when others weren't. Part of it was that he was competent, and even though governing wasn't the primary motive of the DEs, they still needed to keep the Ministry running at basic efficiency. Percy imagined the horrific amount of work that would be required to put the Ministry to rights when the war was over (when, not if. When, or Percy would slit his own wrists in the night) and did as much as he could. A bit more organization now, a few meaningful interdepartmental notes to the right people, and something could be saved. Anything was worth it.

It almost works, they almost overlook him, he treats Thicknesse with as much respect as he ever showed Fudge (though less than Scrimgeour, the man was irritated by such things). And then he catches the wrong person's eye. Yaxley’s promotion to the Head of the DMLE when he was a known Death Eater, had just about broken Percy’s heart, but fortunately the man did little work, preferring to delegate and stroll around the Ministry as he pleased. Percy had already informed the Order that Yaxley might be the one pulling Thicknesse's strings, and he makes up his mind to reiterate that belief in his next briefing. Outwardly, he's looking through the Minister's personal finance report, signing away hundreds of galleons on obviously fake requests with an air of concentration when he feels eyes looking at him. When he looks up, it's Yaxley.

I'm dead, he thinks. Horrified. How could he have known? But Yaxley just gives him a strange, thorough look, and walks away. Percy stares in horror for a few moments, then returns to his work. He doesn't know if he'll live to see this evening, but crying about it wouldn't change anything. He works carefully until seven, his usual exit-time, carefully packs up and heads home. His heart pounds loudly and noisily all the way.

Nothing happens, and Percy is left confused and worried. What could he have done to get Yaxley's attention?

He's wary for the rest of the week, but there's only so much panic a mind can take over the ever-present panic of working for dark, murderous wizards who want to kill half your family, so Percy lets it slide away. He's in Thicknesse's office, taking a stack of confidential files that need to be taken to the department heads personally when Yaxley turns up to meet Thicknesse. "Let me help you with that," he says, almost solicitously, and Percy shakes his head. "No, sir, I'm sure you have something important to discuss with the Minister, I'll just be leaving..." he says, but Yaxley says, "Nonsense. Pius can wait for me, can't you man?" The Minister nods happily, perfectly content to nod at this man who Percy has HEARD him denounce not a full year ago. (Definitely Yaxley, he files away in his mind. He's lucky he let the Order know, he doesn't think he has much time left.) But Yaxley takes half the files from him and holds the door open for him. To Percy's surprise he makes small talk all along the length of the building, some (rather nasty) jokes about blood purity, but one or two that are actually funny enough that he would have laughed. Gallows humor, maybe. And then Yaxley walked him back to his office, bid him a good day, and left.

Percy wasn't murdered on the way home that day, either.

Yaxley turns up to talk twice more the next day, and the day after that, he asks Percy to dinner. _This time I'm dead_ , Percy thinks. Perhaps Yaxley had only been checking his daily routine so they could let someone else take his place after they shipped him to Azkaban. Dinner is at a small place on Diagon alley, one of the few places still open after dark these days. The original owners had been muggleborn or muggle-sympathizers, so Percy suspects the establishment had... violently acquired new management.

Dinner is oddly pleasant, until, over dinner, Yaxley offers him his hand. Percy stares at him, and he laughs, tipping his head back. "Would you take my hand, Mr. Weasley? " Percy think's he's red from mortification, two of the other patrons in the building leave mid-meal, clearly worried for their safety.

"Mr. Yaxley. I'm not. I think you misunderstood..."

Yaxley makes a disappointed noise. "Mr. Weasley, _really_. Do you think I can't tell a shirt-lifter when I see one?" The hand is still there on the table, palm up, and there's something sharp in Yaxley's eyes now, so Percy reaches out and sets his hand in his. Who smiles. "Quite old fashioned, aren't you Mr. Weasley. Or just shy, after all, you are quite young, yet." God, he's only twenty-one. He's never even had a boyfriend, just two girlfriends. And one had been a high school romance.

Percy continues the meal in silence, doesn't react to Yaxley's further attempts at conversation. The slow, creepy strokes of Yaxley’s thumb over Percy's hand and wrist the only thing Percy can think about for the rest of the evening. His hand is shaking finely, something he's hyper-aware of because of the way it rubs against the other man's hand. Whenever he chances a look at Yaxley he looks so self-satisfied, like he’s about to eat him whole.

When Yaxley finishes eating, and finally releases Percy's hand, it's all Percy can do not to run for it. He offers to pay, but Yaxley says it's on him (he doesn't pay either, and no one complains) and then they step out into the cool night air. "Thank you," Percy tells him. Hoping that this is over.

"You are quite the little tease, aren't you?" he asks. Steps in close. "Blushing so prettily all through dinner and now you're trying to leave?" Percy is tall but Yaxley is just a shade taller, possibly because of the boots, and he leans into Percy's ear. "Please come home with me darling. Just for the night."

And Percy hasn't. He hasn't not with _anyone_ , but he can't say no. For a moment, he can't say yes, either, taking a moment to just breathe.

"Come on, Darling." A hand at his waist, slipping towards his back. "I've waited more than a week, I've bought you _dinner_. You wouldn't want me to tell Pius how naughty you are, do you? Trying to seduce an important ministry official, tsk tsk." And Percy can either blow his cover, prove himself not to be the career-obsessed moron that everyone thinks he is, or he can give in and accompany Yaxley home.

"Okay, I'll come with you," he says.

" _Attaboy_ ," Yaxley whispers in his ear, breathily, the sensation making the hair on his neck stand on end, and then there's a _twist_ and they're no longer in Diagon Alley, they're in a well-lit flat somewhere. The curtains are open but it's dark enough that all Percy can see in the window is his own. pale face, and Yaxley's back. "I knew you'd be impressed," the man says, leaning in and kissing Percy on the lips.

Kissing...Kissing Percy has done, and he knows it well enough to kiss back, he takes the nibbling in stride and doesn't choke when a tongue pushes deeper into his mouth. Yaxley's _hands_ though, they wander downwards, to his lower back and lower, cupping his ass through his formal robes, and finally _kneading_ , and he breaks the kiss with a gasp.

Yaxley looks at him then, his face radiating smugness as he grins. "You're brave. Gryffindor in school, weren't you?"

"Yes, sir," Percy whispers.

A hand cups his cheek, a thumb dragging possessively over his mouth, "And quite clever too. 12 Owls, and 10 Newts, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yes sir."

"Beautiful. So you know, don't you Percy. You know that I'm a Death Eater, and the Dark Lord has returned?" He can't answer, he's frozen in terror, and Yaxley laughs. "You don't have to answer. I _know_ that you know. That's what makes this so... appealing. You're terrified, because you know what I am. What I can do, to anyone that I choose."

He holds out an arm. "Pull up my sleeve." When Percy doesn't react, he says again. more harshly, "Now." And he does, slides shaking fingers under the emerald green sleeve, pushing it up over Yaxley's arm, fingers dragging on skin until the dark mark, black and livid burned into his flesh is visible.

Percy has seen drawings, and photographs never has he seen one in person. It's hideous, and terrifying. Oh god, what was he going to do.

"And now you don't have to say anything at all. Isn't that wonderful?" asks Yaxley. Without warning he leans back in, kissing Percy with abandon though this time Percy's too shocked, too much in terror to even pretend to reciprocate.

"Pay attention, Mr. Weasley," I'd hate to punish you for ignoring me. "Now, tell me. What am I?"

Percy swallows. Not sure what's going to happen now. "Death Eater…sir."

"Very good. And do you know what Death Eaters do to gorgeous little blood traitors?" Percy shakes his head no. "We fuck them, Mr. Weasley. We fuck them, and they keep their precious little blood traitor mouths _shut_ ," he kisses Percy again, deep, with teeth. "Or they just don't turn up for work the next morning."

Percy's trembling outright now, can feel himself shivering in Yaxley's grasp and the man lowers his head onto Percy's shoulder, tucks his lip against Percy's skin and says, "You can try to run if you want."

One of his hands slowly trails down the front of Percy's robes, tugging at the collar then down, brushing over his chest and stomach to stop right above his belt. "I'd give you sixty seconds before I curse you." Percy shakes his head. "Excellent," and then Percy's robe is undone, pushed over his shoulders and twisted - effectively trapping his arms against his sides - and he's pushed back against the couch.

He's heard of this happening, more often to young witches than young wizards, but it's still shocking, still vile and unpleasant as Yaxley works him over, taunts and teases him as he takes his pleasure from Percy, doing as he likes.

Finally, when Yaxley is spent, he collapses on top of Percy, his hands casually around Percy's throat, stroking. "How would you like to do this again?" he asks.

 _You mean you're not going to slit my throat._ Percy very nearly says but swallows it down. "When I next request your presence, you _will_ come to me," Yaxley says, and it's a threat, a warning, and Percy nods. "Then get out," he says, and Percy stands up and spins in place. With a crack he collapses on the hard floor of his own flat, shaking and shaking and _shaking_ until he's exhausted enough to fall asleep right there. He wakes up around 3 am, stiff and aching and still filthy. He takes a scalding shower, then goes to his room and prepares as comprehensive a report as he can about the current state of the ministry and sends it in.

Then he goes and takes another shower. It doesn't make him feel any better.


	2. Chapter 2

Yaxley comes back. He's the head of the DMLE, so there's nothing Percy can do to get away from him. Yaxley gives him three days before requesting his presence at dinner. This time, he's apparated directly to Yaxley's home.

"You haven't even seen my bedroom yet, which is a shame," the man insists and takes him into the bedroom.

The worst thing is, the bed and the room itself... they're quite lovely. Being pushed down on the mattress and fucked, that part's no better than last time.

Percy's not sure when it becomes a daily thing, but it does. He finishes up at work under the watchful eye of Yaxley, who always works less than he should as a department-head, and sometimes starts manhandling Percy right there in his office. Once Percy gives up, he’s side-alonged with Yaxley to his home.

The fucking gets progressively more brutal. It takes him a while to understand what Yaxley’s doing, which is testing him, pushing him to the edge to see when he’ll break. He probably expects Percy to lead him to his family’s hiding spots when he’s decided that he’s had enough of Yaxley’s…attentions.

He misses a day of work after the time that Yaxley ties him up and uses his knives, sharp ones that sliced through skin like it was paper, tracing long stinging patterns over his flesh, lingering, pressing close over arteries and veins but never puncturing, and it takes all that Percy has not to lean closer, to let him slice through something vital so he never has to endure this again. He didn’t mean to miss work, he’d gotten home dizzy from blood-loss and dehydrated, had managed to heal himself of the worst of it, put dittany on the visible ones, before he chugged down some blood-replenishing potion and some dreamless sleep and let it all wash away for a few hours. He wakes up 24 hours later, horrified at missing work.

Yaxley smirks at him when he sees him during a meeting the next morning, hovering behind Minister Thicknesse and trying not to be noticed. “I apologize for your aide’s absence yesterday,” says Yaxley, when the meeting is over but no one has left the room. “I’m afraid I’d been a bit rough with him.” His leer doesn’t look the slightest bit repentant, and Percy feels himself flushing in mortification. He looks away from the eyes of everyone else in the room (some of them are grinning, but some look shocked, or pitying). He doesn’t say anything, staring at the carpets until the others with their curious, pitying eyes, leave the meeting room.

“Come over at seven pm for dinner,” says Yaxley, before he leaves, and Pius laughs. “Ambitious man aren’t you, Mister Weasley. So very ambitious.” It’s a good thing Percy hasn’t eaten dinner or breakfast, he doesn’t have to throw up.

He still makes it to Yaxley’s flat at seven sharp. The man is seated on his couch, and looks up with mild surprise to see him.

“Come here, kneel.” It’s so familiar now that Percy takes his place instantly. Yaxley’s hand comes up to play with his mouth with his thumb.

“Didn’t _really_ think you’d come to be honest. I was sure you were planning your escape yesterday. Thought you’d be long gone.”

Percy doesn’t answer.

“But you won’t will you? Lucius and Greyback were _so_ sure that you were a spy. But you don’t seem to be doing anything. I’ve left out documents, I’ve whispered secrets, and no one has acted on any of it. In fact, I could do this-” and his hand, that had slipped down from his chin and over his neck _squeezes._ Yaxley does it often, likes leaving a ring of bruises around Percy’s throat, likes choking him out and smiling as he does it. Enjoys it when Percy can barely speak or swallow the next day, because he’ll come over and stroke the ring of bruises firmly while he’s working.

He squeezes longer than usual this time, not just until Percy is jerking in his hold but until he’s twisting desperately, vision blacking out around the edges. Even when he loosens up he doesn’t _let go,_ keeps hins hand around Percy’s throat as he gasps and heaves for breath.

Yaxley shakes him by the neck and Percy whines because it hurts. “You really won’t run,” he says, and instead of sounding disappointed, he sounds incredibly pleased.

“ _Where would I go?_ ” asks Percy, and his voice is hoarse, even whispering aches. And Yaxley tilts his head back and laughs, loud and amused, and Percy has no idea what’s happening. (He resigned himself to death weeks ago. He doesn’t even spare it another thought).

Instead of drawing his wand though, Yaxley merely undoes his trousers, releasing his hard, throbbing length (choking Percy always made him hard faster than anything else). “Well go on then. Came to find you yesterday so you could suck me off, and you weren’t there.”

His hands grip tight in Percy’s hair, thrusting languidly as he speaks. “I won’t deny I was almost dis…appointed that I’d have… to catch you and your blood traitor family -ah- and execute you all, would’ve…” he gasps, “missed _your mouth_.”

It wouldn’t be Percy’s mouth he’d be missing as much as his _throat_ because Yaxley’s been bottoming out, giving Percy only the barest moments between thrusts when he can inhale through his nose so he doesn’t choke to death on Yaxley’s cock. (Murdered in his office for treason would’ve been a better way to go.) Yaxley finishes down Percy’s throat with a self-satisfied groan, and pulls out slowly.

“But that might have been fun too. Maybe I could’ve told them what a good boy you were before I killed them, or even given them a demonstration am I right? Or _maybe_ seven was one too many, they decided that six were more than enough, yes? Maybe they _don’t_ care what happens to you.”

Percy doesn’t realize he’s started crying until Yaxley says, “Would you look at that,” and wipes his tears away roughly with a thumb. “So Mr. Weasley, only one question remains, If you truly can’t lead us to your family, _what use are you?”_

He can’t tell what Yaxley’s thinking _at all_ , though Percy is more glad now than ever that he had obtained a promise from Professor Dumbledore that no one in his family would _ever_ be told that he was part of the Order. They wouldn’t even notice that he’s gone missing, until someone found his body.

“Answer me,” he says.

“I…I work for the ministry…”

The sharp bark of laughter makes it obvious what Yaxley thinks of _that._ “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’ll find something useful for you to do.”

It sounds terribly ominous, but Percy is beyond caring.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not from Percy's POV

Draco has seen the prefect Weasley strutting about the school, thinking himself someone important. Draco hadn’t expected to see him _here_. And not… not like this. It’s a _Christmas Party,_ held at the manor at the Dark Lord’s request, and most of the Death Eaters and their other allies are here, as well as a significant number of mind-bent Ministry employees. The food is excellent, the decorations tasteful, but the _company._ Well. Draco would be killed if he spoke it aloud.

At first Draco had startled at the bright red hair, had thought that Potter and his friends had somehow infiltrated, but no. Apparently the man was Yaxley’s current _pet._ He even follows him around as though he’s been leashed, expression perfectly blank.

 _Does he know what happens to Yaxley’s pets when he tires of them?_ Draco wonders. He thinks that he must. Those empty blue eyes say that he must. (He wonders if Weasley is going to be tonight’s _entertainment_ , followed by Nagini’s dinner. He doesn’t know why the thought turns his stomach.)

“Must you flaunt your perversions in front of my son?” his father asks, after the party, when many of the guests had left. The Dark Lord had left before the party started, and those remaining were the ones who wished to see him. The smaller party had convened on the edge of the east lawn, where comfortable sofas and chairs were arrayed around an open hearth. Stealthily placed heating charms gave the place a cozy feeling, regardless of the icy snow beyond the boundaries of the charm.

Draco had used to live this spot.

The reason for his father’s ire is Corban Yaxley, the man has been making far too much of his recent successes, and right now the Weasley is sitting silently in his lap, ignoring the way Yaxley’s hand wanders.

“Are you sure that _Draco,”_ and ugh, the man was a creep, the way he says his name is disgusting, “is not of the same persuasion?” His father looks about ready to kill him.

“Leave Draco alone,” says a silky voice from further away. It’s Professor Snape, sitting outside the circle well lit by the flames. The professor always liked to lurk.

“Always so protective of your little brats, Severus,” says Yaxley. “He won’t be yours next year.” _I can do what I want_ , he means.

“Draco is my godson,” says Severus mildly. It means _hell no,_ and Draco is once again grateful for Severus Snape, even though he also despises the man at times. It must have angered Yaxley, because he does something that makes the Weasley in his lap gasp. And not like…like _that._ It sounded like he’d been hurt.

“This one was yours too, wasn’t he?” he asks. “And look where he is now.” The man gasps again, and Draco finally sees that Yaxley’s pointing his wand at him. He must be casting a silent _cruciatus_ or something _._

“Not mine. Like all the Weasleys, that one was a Gryffindor,” he says.

“Almost doesn’t feel like it, seems like quite the coward.”

“That happens sometimes. Observe Pettigrew.” There’s a round of chuckles at that.

“Intelligent though, isn’t he?” he asks, nuzzling closer, letting him tremble in his hold.

“He was, quite.”

“Give him over ‘ere if you want him punished,” says Greyback, baring his teeth in a twisted smile.

“It would be his pleasure. Go sit on Fenrir’s lap for a while, Percy,” the man says mildly. The Weasley obeys like a puppet. Just before he sits down, Yaxley adds, “If you so much as break his skin, I’ll kill you.”

“Well, that’s a right shame, isn’t it? Got a nice few bites out of your brother, didn’t I, boy? Scrumptious. And he was even prettier than you. Shame about his face,” he tugs Weasley down into a kiss, and his father nudges Draco pointedly so he turns away.

He can still hear them though.

With his father’s standing before the Dark Lord slipping so fast… how long before Draco will be the one passed around like that? The show seems to be for his benefit after all, though his father and Professor Snape are also bristling.

“If the Dark Lord was going to join us, he would have come by now. Come Draco, we shall retire for the night,” says his father, standing. He steps between Draco and Greyback, turning him toward the house with one hand firmly on his shoulder.

Draco can’t help but glance over his shoulder, sees the Weasley kneeling n the ground, mostly divested of his robes.

“Don’t be such an _animal_ , Fenrir,” Yaxley chuckles.

“His _mouth_ Yaxley. You sure you don’t want a go, Snape? Might loosen you up a little.”

“Thank you, but no.”

Draco is grateful that he doesn’t hear anymore, but the message is clear. That could be him, if Lucius or Narcissa become any less useful than they currently are. That could be him, the moment they can get away with it.

Draco wonders where the Weasley’s family had gone, how they could leave him alone to face this. _Weren’t they supposed to be about protecting people?_

The Weasley becomes a semi-permanent fixture after that, Yaxley’s boytoy, even brought into Death Eater meetings once or twice to explain the Ministry’s going ons to the Dark Lord. “He’s the one doing most of Pius’ paperwork,” Yaxley admits frankly. “I’m not afraid he’ll run. Boy’s got nowhere else to be.”

And that line seems to ring true, the Weasley doesn’t seem to do much but obey orders when he’s given them, when he’s at the Manor. When muggle-born prisoners are carted around in front of him, he says nothing, though the emptiness is at least replaced by shame. Yaxley doesn’t usually stay at the Manor, but he…lends Weasley out, most often to Greyback but also to Rabastan and Rodolphus, who are all staying with them. Draco sees him limping in the mornings, breakfasting early so he can get to work on time.

“Have you ever missed a day of work?” Draco asks him on the last day of the holidays, when they’re the only ones eating breakfast that early in the morning.

The Weasley startles at being spoken to, but then answers. “Just once. Once when he-” He shakes his head, eyes clouded, refusing to finish the sentence.

“Why don’t you just run away?” He whispers it. This is his house, they’re alone, but he’s still so terrified that he has to whisper.

“Where would I go?” he asks.

“ _Anywhere.”_

He shrugs. This is what a person looks like when all the fight has left them, Draco realizes. He never wants to be brought so low.

It’s during the Easter holidays that the mask cracks, that Greyback and some snatchers drag Potter and his friends back to the Manor, Potter with his face puffed up and almost unrecognizable, all three of them.

“ _Is it them?”_ They ask Draco, and he says he doesn’t know.

“Get Yaxley’s boy, he’ll confirm it,” says Greyback, and he’s smirking, satisfied. Greyback had _had_ him last night, and Draco had needed to put up sound cancelling charms. Whatever he’d done, it had left him in a good mood, and the Weasley hadn’t gotten out of bed this morning.

It’s Aunt Bella who disagrees. “You don’t know he’s so far gone as to sell out his own brother,” she says.

“I’d reckon he has, though.”

And then his Aunt notices the Sword and goes nuts, stupefying every person in the room. She doesn’t notice the shimmering form of a disillusioned person from the doorway to the dining room. Draco doesn’t call attention to it.

Later, later he’ll be furious at himself. The Dark Lord is furious with them for letting Potter slip from his grasp. Fortunately, he’s just as furious that Yaxley had brought a traitor into their midst, and given him free reign.

“I hate it when men cannot _think_ ,” he snarls, and shoots some spell at Yaxley that has him ill tempered and limping until Draco is allowed to return back to school.

He tries not to think of him, ex-Head Boy, Percy Weasley. He was _insane._ He must have had the portkeys the whole time he was there. They hadn’t noticed him, too busy listening to Granger scream while being tortured to notice the shimmer of air beside her, until something was pressed into her skin and a soft voice said “Dumbledore.”

He would have gotten away with it, even, if Bellatrix hadn’t been so fast with her knife. In the split second before they vanished, Draco had seen it sink in, seen the spurt of blood as the disillusionment spell faltered, and then the two were gone. By the time they got down to the cellars, Pettigrew had been stunned and tied up, and all the prisoners from the dungeons were missing.

Draco wonders if Percy Weasley had been trying to be _brave_ , or if he’d just wanted a way out.

They’re screaming and knocking on the cellar door, but when the door finally opens a shield charm pushes them all several steps back. A trussed-up Pettigrew is tossed inside with them by someone invisible -disillusioned- Harry can see a faint haze where they both should be, and then magical ropes are conjured, binding the rest of them together.

No amount of yelling or flailing stops the mystery person, and then a thin gold chain is wrapped around them all. “Dumbledore,” says a hoarse, quiet voice, and the chain glows blue, there’s a jerk behind Harry’s navel, and they’re being whirled through the air, coming to a stop on a sandy beach that he doesn’t recognize.

 _“Hermione!”_ Ron screams, standing up and whirling around futile. The ropes had fallen away the moment that they’d landed. Harry’s in shock, someone had just rescued all of them, but _Hermione…_ He doesn’t know how anyone knows they’re there, but he hears voices, hears, “Oh god, it’s _a lot of them,”_ and “Ron? Harry!”

It’s Bill and Fleur, and they look terribly confused as they start to help Luna and Dean sort everyone out. Harry, Harry should help, but Hermione…

“We need to get back to the Manor,” says Ron, and Harry agrees, but apart from _Wiltshire,_ Harry has no idea where the Malfoys live. Would it be untraceable?

“Come on, the safe house is this way,” says Fleur, placing an arm on Harry’s shoulder. “Did… who sent you here?”

Before he can answer, two more people appear. One is Hermione, face twisted in pain, still screaming. The second is someone familiar, red haired, and terribly thin, who drops several wands to the as he collapses face-first onto the sand. “ ** _Percy?_** ”

Bill reaches him first, he’s lying still and unmoving beside Hermione, a knife sticking out of his back, sunk in to the hilt. “Perce, oh god.”

“Bill?” he asks, and he looks really confused, he looks about to say something else, but then he goes slack in Bill’s arms.

Fleur is fast, _really fast,_ she has a few heavy stasis spells on him before they can blink, and Bill tips his head back and pours blood replenishing and flesh mending potions down his throat, before handing a few vials to Ron for Hermione.

“Bill,” says Fleur, watching him layer healing charms over his still brother. “Bill, is there anyone we can call?”

 _We can’t do this,_ she means, and Ron looks like he’s been hit by a club. “Let’s get everyone to a safe house, we’ll see,” he says.

They lead the way, Percy floating on a stretcher that Fleur is manoeuvring, Bill not letting up with the healing charms for even a moment. The “Safe house” is a small cabin, one roomed, though it has a bathroom attached and a stove in one corner. The bed is a single, but Dean picks up one of the wands that Percy had brought to charm it large enough for more people.

“No,” says Bill, and it sounds wrenched, twisted in a way that Harry’s never heard him sound. He drops his wand to bury his hands in his hair, muttering pleas under his breath and Fleur walks around the still form lying on the ground to pull Bill into an embrace.

Ron stumbles forward, landing hard on his knees at Bill’s side. “Bill? Is he?”

“They need privacy,” says Luna, selecting a wand, Hermione’s, from the pile, and charming a room separator into existence, walling away the Weasleys from the others. They all look pretty grim, but accepting. Harry supposes they’ve seen others die in this war already.

Hermione seems to have recovered, she looks shaky still but she stands, and taking Harry’s hands she pulls him to the other side of the separator.

“Who was it?” asks Bill. Harry turns to Hermione, because he doesn’t know, either. “Bellatrix. She. She threw her knife after he got the portkey touching us both.”

She sinks to her knees beside Ron. Harry just leans against the wall. He can’t.

“What was he doing there?” asks Ron, helplessly, and somehow that has Hermione bursting into tears. “Don’t Ron, don’t ask, just leave him be.”

Ron looks bewildered at the answer, but it has Bill breaking down properly, sobbing loudly and painfully and Fleur doesn’t even try to calm him, just holds him close and stares, horrified, at Percy’s skin.

He looks… he looks terrible, even for a dead person. He’s thinner by far than Harry has ever seen him, and there’s a string of mottled bruises around his neck, and his arms, that look like hand and fingerprints. There are dark circles beneath his eyes.

“We have to tell mum and dad,” says Ron, and his face crumples, too. Harry slides down the wall, no longer strong enough to hold himself up. _Oh god, what would Mr. and Mrs. Weasley say?_


	4. Chapter 4

It’s when Fleur comes to see them, that George realizes that something is wrong. Bill and Fleur had only visited once, for Christmas, and that was to keep mum from going crazy. Ginny, the only other person in the room, freezes when she sees her, too. Or maybe it’s not just Fleur’s appearance, maybe it’s how defeated she looks, how she’s dimmer than usual, like the light is curling into her, instead of cascading out.

“What happened? Is Bill alright?”

“Bill is fine, he is safe,” she says. Her accent is thicker now than he’s heard it be in years. “Ron is also fine. He is at our house now. I… I need to speak to your parents.”

“Fleur. Fleur, just _tell us_ ,” says Ginny. George doesn’t think he’s ever heard his sister sound like that. So scared.

“Percy,” she whispers.

“What?” what could have happened to him? He was working at the ministry, right?

“It’s Percy,” she says again. “Please call your parents. And Charlie and Fred, if they’re here.”

“Is he dead?” he hears Ginny ask as he leaves. He doesn’t hear Fleur say no.

If George stumbles on the stairs for a moment, there’s no one to see it.

Charlie isn’t there, had left on Order business that morning, but George collects Mum and Dad and Fred. He tells them the bare minimum; Fleur was here, Bill was fine, please come talk to her.

He hasn’t heard her say it yet, so it _isn’t true._

Mum and Dad hurry out, but Fred stops and looks him in the eye. “ _What happened?”_

 _“_ She hasn’t said. Come downstairs.” When Fred doesn’t move, George leads the way down. He hears his brother follow a few moments later.

When they get downstairs, Ginny is crying into her hands. Fleur looks up at them helplessly. “Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley. It’s. _I’m so sorry._ It’s Percy. He’s dead.”

Mum sinks down into a chair, and Dad right beside her.

“ _Percy?_ ” asks Fred, shocked. Oh right, George hadn’t mentioned that upstairs. George was wrong, hearing it out loud doesn’t make it sound any better.

“I… I have information for the Order. But also… there are some other things that Ginny should not hear. She glances at him and Fred. Or the twins.”

“You’re not going to tell us how he died?” George asks.

“No, that was. He died saving the prisoners at the Malfoy’s Wiltshire Manor, we’ve had to send them along to separate safe-houses. Remus is taking care of that. Dean, Luna, a goblin called Griphook, and Mr. Ollivanders… as well as Ron, Harry, and Hermione,” she says.

“They got _caught?_ ” asks Fred.

Fleur nods. “They were caught, and Hermione was being tortured. He got them all away. Bellatrix… Bellatrix knifed him in the back before the portkey activated. We _tried_ , but. The knife may have been cursed, we couldn’t save him.”

“How did _Percy_ get in there?” asks George. Her face crumples, like she’s going to cry. It still doesn’t make sense. “And why isn’t _Bill_ here?” he, he should’ve come. To let Mum and Dad know, he should’ve…

“He won’t leave Percy,” she says softly. “Please take Ginny and go. I need to talk to your parents before I take you home with me. He’s… he’s at our cottage now. So are Ron, Harry, and Hermione.”

George is about to refuse to leave, but Fred goes over to Ginny and helps her up. “Come on, Gin. We’ll just. We’ll go upstairs for a while, yeah? We have to…” he breaks off. “Good girl,” he whispers, when she comes with him, even though she’s crying harder. Fred gives him a pointed look, and he summons a glass from the kitchen before he follows them up.

The delay gives him enough time to break away from Fred and George on the stairs, to stick a pair of extendable ears into his ears so he can hear what Fleur is telling his parents.

“Just. Just tell us, dear,” says Mum. She sounds awful.

“Hermione… Hermione says they mentioned him, though Ron didn’t seem to notice? They… they called him _Yaxley’s boy_ , and it sounded like he’s been there very often. That they were used to him. And well, when we were trying to heal him, we found.”

Dad makes a horrifying noise then, something like a keen and a sob and it doesn’t sound _human,_ while mom just sobs louder.

“Bill didn’t want me to tell you. But you can _see_ it, and I just wanted you to be prepared. We can put cosmetic charms on him so that the children don’t see anything, but. I didn’t want to lie to you. I’m so _sorry._ ”

George pulls the extendables out of his ears, and stumbles up the stairs. He enters the room where Fred and Ginny are, and sinks to the ground. He feels Fred summon the glass, and lets him.

 _Percy_ was being used? By Yaxley? They knew that Yaxley was the one pulling Pius’ strings, the ministry informant was doing their job after all. But how had they missed that? How could- and then the last bit of the puzzle falls into place. How Percy had gotten everyone somewhere that the Order could get to easily; that Fleur and Bill had noticed instantly, had been there to try and save his life, and failed, but that meant there had been someone to take care of the people he rescued.

_Percy was the informant._

How. How long had that been going on? _Why?_ Why keep it a secret? Why let Yaxley- do _that._ If Fleur had to warn their parents, then it must have been.

“George? Hey George, snap out of it. No zoning out, you hear me?” George blinks up into Fred’s worried eyes, and doesn’t take the opening to make an ear joke.

“Muffliato,” he says, leaning forward and resting his head on Fred’s shoulder. He’s not casting it, he’s telling Fred to, and he hears Fred murmur the spell a moment later. “Yaxley was sleeping with him. That’s why he was there. Must’ve been why he had his wand on him, too. And I… I think that _he_ was the ministry informant,” he says quietly. He can’t. What is he supposed to _say._

He feels Fred’s arms come up around him, and then he’s crying, and feels Fred crying into his hair. How could they have let this happen? It wasn’t a matter of Percy hiding it from them, when had they cared enough to go after him? To check on his well-being?

Their brother was twenty-one. _Twenty-one._ How could he be dead?

They rescue Malfoy and Goyle from the room of requirement, from the fiendfyre that is devouring the room whole. When they land outside, Draco coughs, and asks one question, “Did your brother make it?”

The expressions on their faces must make it clear that he hadn’t, because his face falls. “I hoped he’d made it. He took all of the wands… I thought he had a chance. I saw her throw the knife…but he was invisible. I hoped she had missed.”

“You _hoped_ he’d made it?” asks Ron, and his voice isn’t raised but Malfoy cringes back afraid. “I told him to leave! I didn’t know why he was sticking around. Not when they were… He said there was no place to go! But clearly, he had somewhere he could take _you._ ”

“Did he live there?” asks Ron.

Hermione says, “ _Ron,_ ” and he whirls on her.

“ _Why do you keep acting like I don’t know what they did to him?”_ he yells. “I can put it together too! But Yaxley didn’t live there, it doesn’t make sense.” He glares at Malfoy, waiting for him to speak.

“Yaxley, uh. He thought he was harmless. Broken. Let him make the ministry reports directly to the Dark Lord. Let… Let Greyback and the Lestranges. Let them… I _told him to leave_ ,” he says again, shaking his head like he doesn’t understand. "I hoped that he'd make it," he repeats.


End file.
